Just Believe
by Mira Spiegel
Summary: The LlewelynDavies boys have taken a shine to the new American housekeeper, Lily, who has a strange tendency to find trouble in the de Maurier household. But the boys aren't the only ones who have taken a shine to her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Finding Neverland and I'm not making money off this story.

Just Believe

Chapter One: Our Little Secret

J.M. Barrie

I didn't know where my place in this world was anymore. In just a year's time I had lost my wife to another man, lost a loving woman to an illness, wrote a fantastic play, gained the guardianship of four wonderful boys and moved into the home of Emma de Maurier. But I had lost my footing along the way. I fear there have been too many valleys and mountain tops that I had to travel over that now, I did not know what kind of ground was underneath my feet. For the boy's sake, I needed to find my balance again. I needed to gain back the foot holds that I had lost.

"Uncle Jim?"

I actually jump at the sound of Peter's voice, realizing just how deep in thought I had been. "Yes, Peter?"

"Is Porthos coming to the park with us today?"

I looked over at the sleeping mass of fur that was snoring in front of the fire. "I think not. It is a wise thing to let a sleeping bear lie."

Peter tries not to smile at the comment and only half-way succeeds. "I'll get my brothers then."

I nod and stand, gathering my notebook and pen for the journey to the park. I give Porthos one last look before heading towards the hallway. He was getting old, as all dogs do. I was struggling with whether or not to inform the boys of Porthos' imminent demise or face it when the time came. I feared the boys had seen too much death already. They understood it perfectly at a much too young an age. Perhaps I could tell them that Porthos had found a traveling circus to perform in and was traveling the world.

A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted the creative turn my mind had taken. It sounded as if one of the maids had broken an arm full of china and was busily cleaning it up. I took a few steps forward to investigate when a couple voices drifted out into the hallway to greet me.

"Mrs. de Maurier is going to have my head for this," an American tinged voice said. I immediately recognized that it belonged to Lily, the newest addition to the household. Emma de Maurier apparently thought she needed another maid to help with the extra fuss the boys had brought into her home. I knew very little of the slight red head other than the fact that she was an American.

"Don't worry, we won't tell Grandmother," Michael's voice rose over the clanging of broken pieces being picked up.

"She's going to notice this many dishes having been broken."

"George is right, I'm afraid," Lily's voice answered. "It'll be back to America for me."

"No, you can't go back yet," Michael whined.

There were few things in this world that the Llewellyn-Davies boys treasured now and if they had developed a connection to the new housekeeper I was determined to keep her in the house. I stepped through the door into the large kitchen to assess the damage. I found myself ankle deep in broken tea cups and saucers.

"Mr. Barrie."

"Miss Howard."

"Please, Uncle Jim," George asked with all the seriousness of a man, "Don't tell Grandmother of this. It was Michael's fault."

The accused looked down at his scuffed shoes. "I left out one of my toys and Ms. Howard tripped over it."

I was surprised to see Lily lean over and place a gentle hand on Michael's arm. "And I should have been watching where I was stepping."

I bent down and shuffled through the bits of white porcelain till I found the stamp on the bottom of a shattered tea cup. "Were you just carrying tea cups and saucers?"

"Yes, Mr. Barrie."

I wrapped the piece in my handkerchief and placed it in my pocket. "I happen to know a shop where they should still sell this particular line of china. How many sets were you carrying?"

Lily flushed a deep red. "Eight."

I nodded and opened the kitchen door to find Peter on the other side, obviously still looking for his brothers. But once his eyes caught sight of the mess on the floor, all thoughts of the park were gone.

"Boys, why don't you help Miss Howard clean up this mess while I go try to find some replacements."

All four head bowed obediently and started to gather up the broken pieces. I turned and left the kitchen, barely making it halfway down the hallway before Lily caught up with me.

"Mr. Barrie?"

"Yes?"

"Sir, I greatly appreciate your willingness to cover my mistake, but…"

I watched her face contort as words seemed to leave her. I placed my hat on my head and blindly grabbed a walking cane from the stand near the door. "Yes?"

She twirled her fingers around her apron and stared at the floor. "It's just I don't have enough money to pay for that many cups and saucers, Mr. Barrie."

"That is why I'm going instead of sending you."

I watch as the realization creeps across her freckled face. Relief is evident, followed quickly by gratefulness but everything is overshadowed by fear. "Mr. Barrie-"

I reach out and quickly made contact with her elbow, much how she touched Michael in the kitchen. "It'll be our little secret."

"I can't pay you back either, sir."

"I never expected you to." I tip my hat and slip out of the door before she felt the need to come up with another excuse as to why I shouldn't be doing this favor. It was the longest conversation I ever had with Lily and was surprised that I had let that much time slip past without getting to know her. Mary always thought it highly inappropriate that I knew our housekeepers and cooks last names, places of origin and number of family members. I was certain that Emma de Maurier was no different so I would have to make my inquiries with care.


	2. Wounded

Just Believe

Chapter Two: Wounded

Lily Howard

My mother was a master storyteller. It didn't matter if she was cooking, cleaning, doing laundry or just sitting in front of the fire, there was always a story on her lips. Her thick Irish brogue would lull me to sleep on the nights when my eyes refused to close. Her stories ranged from her life in Ireland, the boat trip to America and the long library of fairy tales that she had stored in her beautiful mind. I held onto her words, tucking them away in my heart and memory. Now, they were the only things of my mother that I carried with me.

So when Michael came downstairs because he had a nightmare and asked for a story, I reached into that vast library and gave him one. Apparently he was so thrilled by it all that he told his brother's who searched me out the following day to hear another one. It was this story that caused so much trouble this afternoon.

I was so engrossed in my storytelling that I didn't notice Michael's stick horse that had been abandoned on the floor till I cleared the broken porcelain off of him. The boys were most dutiful in their task of helping clean up the shards, especially poor Michael.

"Ms. Howard?"

I wiped my hands on my apron. We were almost done. "Yes, Jack?"

He pointed towards were my hands had just been. "You're bleeding."

Looking down I saw a large red streak cutting across the white of my apron. Upon further inspection, I found a deep gash in the palm of my right hand. I rushed over to the sink and dipped my hand in the sudsy dish water and grabbed a dish towel. Hastily, I wrapped up my hand and turned towards the four anxious faces that were studying me.

"Let me see your hands, boys."

Obediently, they all held out their hands and started inspecting their palms. I was too ashamed to look any of them in the eye. I couldn't believe how I had put them in danger of cutting themselves. How would I explain that to their grandmother? Or Mr. Barrie for that matter. I felt my cheeks flush with more than embarrassment at that thought.

I reached the littlest pair of hands and felt something wet drop on my wrist. Panicking, I looked for any sign of red on his hands and found none. I even pushed his sleeves up but they revealed no marks whatsoever. I forced my eyes up to Michael's face and found his chubby cheeks wet with tears.

"What's the matter, Michael?"

He sucked in a halting breath. "That's what mother used to say to us."

I looked up at the other three faces, all with similar grief though different stages of the emotion. Without thinking of what was proper or not, I pulled Michael down into my lap, careful not to rub any blood on him, and wrapped my arms around him. "I'm terribly sorry, boys. I didn't mean-"

"I think what Michael meant," Peter said quietly, "was it's quite nice to hear those words again."

I felt Michael's head nod against my shoulder. "Yes, it's quite nice."

"George," I finally find the strength to speak, "You better take the garbage out before your grandmother sees all the broken pieces."

He quietly gathered up the sack with Jack's help and together they carried the evidence of the destruction out of the kitchen. I remained on the floor, gently rocking Michael, even though his tears seemed to have lessened. Peter, however, remained stoic.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

"Yes."

"It's alright to miss them, you know. There's no shame in crying."

He gave me a look as if I had just told him the world was flat.

"I still cry over my parents." That seemed to grab his attention, Michael's as well.

"You don't have any parent's either?" Michael sniffed.

I shook my head. "No, I haven't had parents for quite some time now."

"Who took care of you then?" Peter asked.

"My Uncle."

"Does your Uncle live in London then?"

"He lives in America. But he is friends with your grandmother and that is why she allowed me to come work in her household for a time."

"Just a time?" Peter asked. "You have to go back then?"

I tried to hide the sadness that tinged my voice but I could tell from Peter's face I did a very poor job of it. "Yes, I do have to go back."

"Why?" Michael spoke up.

"A little thing called 'responsibility.'"

Peter crinkled his nose. "Uncle Jim hates that word."

I felt a slow smile creep across my face. In light of the past few moments it felt as if I would never feel a smile again but yet, looking up at the face of Peter Davies, I found my smile again. "I hate that word too."


	3. Tinkerbell

Just Believe

Chapter Three: Tinkerbell

J.M. Barrie

Two hours and four china shops later, I was finally on my way back to the de Maurier household. I wasn't sure if Emma had returned yet, so I walked around to the back of the house and entered through the kitchen. From the low setting of the sun I guessed it was past dinner time and the bustle in the kitchen told me I was correct.

I scanned the tops of the heads and couldn't find the red-gold hair of Lily. Setting the box of china on the empty kitchen table, I looked for Sarah. She had chosen to come with me instead of going with Mary, something that had upset Mary to no end I was certain. I didn't realize Sarah had bustled past me till she was almost out of the room. I called out to her and quickly followed her into the dining room.

"Good evening, Mr. Barrie."

"Good evening, Sarah. Do you know where Ms. Howard is?"

"She's upstairs putting the boys to bed. They wanted a story and since Ms. Howard couldn't help in the kitchen, she offered to take care of the boys."

"Why can't she help in the kitchen?"

Sarah shrugged. "No one knows how it happened but she had a nasty gash on her hand. Mrs. Ramsey told her to go the doctor to get stitches but she refused."

I nod, trying to remember if she had the wound before I left or if it was inflicted afterwards. "There is a crate in the kitchen that has a set of eight teacups and saucers. If you could make sure they're washed and put in the cabinet. I would appreciate Madame du Maurier not find out about it."

Sarah smiled slightly. "Of course, Mr. Barrie."

I nod my thanks to Sarah for the information and watch as she effortlessly gathers up the remaining plates at the long table. There had been four settings that had been used and one that still remained untouched.

"Would you like your dinner now, Mr. Barrie?"

"No, thank you. I'll just grab something myself when the kitchen quiets."

"Alright then," Sarah nods and quickly leaves the room. I debate what to do with myself. I don't want to intrude on the boys and their story but my curiosity concerning Lily's hand urges me to see her. The front room den with the roaring fire and book lined walls had become my sanctuary since moving into the house so it is there that I decided to go. The door gives me a straight on view of the staircase so I would be able to see Lily when she comes downstairs.

Porthos is still in front of the fire, though he seems to have moved a bit closer to the fire. I had bought the dog for Mary when we had gone to Switzerland for our honeymoon. She had fallen in love with the puppy but unfortunately the puppy fell in love with me instead. I tried to get her to play with him but she refused, believing that encouraging those behaviors would only lead to an ill-behaved dog. It was that attitude that convinced me we should not have children in our house. I feared her attitude would carry over from pets to children. The bottom step to the staircase creaked and brought me back to the present.

"Ms. Howard?"

She paused in the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back, I noticed. "Yes, Mr. Barrie?"

"Come in, please." I motioned to one of the chairs in front of the fire. She merely looked at me in disbelief. "Would you like to sit down?"

"I don't want to be inappropriate, Mr. Barrie."

"Nonsense."

"But Madame de Maurier-"

"Isn't here yet. Please, sit."

Hesitation still lingered on her face as she crossed the room and took the chair I pointed to. I hated social standards and I suppose this was my way of thumbing my nose at them. If Emma decided to come back early from her charity event, this scene would be the first she would lay eyes on: a maid and me sitting in front of the fire watching a snoring mass of fur. I actually have to cover my mouth with my hand to hide a smile. I glance over at Lily to see if she noticed but her eyes are trained on the Saint Bernard.

"How old is Porthos?"

"He's almost ten now." She doesn't say anything else, her eyes still trained on the dog. Her hands are hidden from view, tucked under the folds of her skirt. I find myself staring at the lines of her face: the upturned nose and sharp angles of her cheekbones and chin. I can't help but smile. "You look exactly like Tinkerbell."

She gives me a surprised and confused look. "I thought Tinkerbell was a small light."

"In the stage production yes, but in the actual story she's a real fairy."

"Ah. So I look like a fairy to you."

"Your face, yes."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you, I think."

Had I meant it as a compliment? I suppose I did. "You're welcome."

"Were you able to find the china?"

"Yes, I was. Sarah's in charge of washing it all and putting it away. Madame de Maurier isn't supposed to return till late tonight so our secret is safe."

"You have no idea how appreciative I am to you."

"The boys really seem to have taken a liking to you. They haven't closed themselves off to you like they have everyone else. You have no idea how appreciative I am to you."

"Those boys are very special. They mean a lot to me as well."

"Sarah told me that you hurt your hand. May I see it?"

Her hands became buried underneath her skirt folds even further. "It's nothing, really, just a scratch."

"Please?" I held out my hand, showing her I wasn't going to relent. She must have realized this and produced the bandaged hand. She had wrapped it in a dishtowel but it had already bled through the fabric. Carefully, I untied the knot and pulled the cloth away from the wound. It was a mess. I couldn't even see the wound. Her entire palm was sticky and red.

"I'm afraid you're going to need stitches in this."

She snatched her hand back and tried to clumsily tie up the knot again. "Nonsense. It'll close up in a few days."

"Sarah?" I called. It only took a moment to hear her footfalls on the hardwood flooring.

"Yes, Mr. Barrie?"

"It seems Ms. Howard will need some stitches in her hand. Would you be so kind as to accompany us to the hospital?"

"Yes, Mr. Barrie, of course."

I had hoped having another woman come with us would appease Lily but judging from the look on her face, it did not appease her in the least. If anything, it made her angry.

"I'm quite capable of treating a cut, Mr. Barrie."

Sarah crossed the room and put her arms around Lily's shoulders. "Come now dear. It's no good arguing with Mr. Barrie. You'll always lose."

I smile at the thought of what Sarah referred to. She had cut her finger while making dinner one night and was forced to accompany me to the doctor's. Mary was mortified that I had taken one of the maids in our car to the doctors. I was trying not the make same mistake twice by inviting Sarah along this time. In the end it seemed to placate Lily, who merely sighed in defeat.

"Right then. I'll bring the car around. Sarah, if you would be so kind as to inform Mrs. Ramsey of our outing."

"Yes, Mr. Barrie."

I grabbed my coat and exited the house as quick as possible, not wanting to risk Lily changing her mind or putting up more of fuss. Apparently she didn't. By the time I had the car warmed up and in front of the house, Sarah and Lily were both standing on the curb waiting.


End file.
